otter  woo 


UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 

School  of    Librae? 
Sci 


TTJE 


LITTLE    BEGGARS, 


BY  MRS.  SHERWOOD, 

Author  of  Little  Henry  and  his  Bearer,  Hedge  of  Thorns,  fyc. 


See  p.  8. 


STEREOTYPED  BY  JAS.  CONNER,  NEAV-YORK. 


NEW-YORK 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  GEN.  PROTESTANT  EPISCOPAL 

SUNDAY    SCHOOL 

UNION. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/littlebeggarsOOsher 


THE  MTTLE  BEGGARS. 


There  is  an  old  saying,  that  "  honesty  is  the  best 
policy,"  a  saying  full  of  wisdom,  and  which  is  veri- 
fied by  every  man's  experience.  But  as  little  chil- 
dren who  have  not  lived  long  in  the  world  cannot  be 
supposed  to  understand  the  weight  of  this  sentiment, 
I  shall  relate  in  this  place  a  certain  story  with  which 
I  became  acquainted  some  time  past  when  travelling 
in  a  foreign  country. 

There  is  in  Germany  a  range  of  lofty  hills  called 
the  Mountains  of  Hartz  ;  many  of  these  hills  are  co 
vered  with  woods,— woods  which  extend  for  many 
miles  around,  and  are  in  some  places  so  thick  with 
underwood  and  tangled  bushes,  that  it  would  be  al- 
most impossible  for  a  traveller  to  make  his  way 
through  them.  In  the  corner  of  one  of  these 
forests,  and  about  half  way  up  one  of  the  highest 
hills,  stand  two  cottages,  built  according  to  the  Ger- 
man fashion,  of  beams  of  timber  painted  black,  the 
intervals  being  filled  with  laths  and  plaister,  and  the 
roof  supplied  with  a  thick  and  warm  covering  of 
thatch.  Each  of  these  houses  had  a  porch  which 
projected  forward,  and  afforded  a  shelter  to  several 
benches  placed  beneath,  in  which  the  family  might 
sit  in  warm  weather,  and  take  their  meals  or  pursue 
their  work. 

The  smaller  of  these  cottages  stood  somewhat 
out  from  among  the  trees,  and  near  a  spring  of  fresh 
and  sparkling  water,  which  poured  down  from  the 


heights  above,  and  failed  not  in  the  hottest  season 
to  supply  the  inhabitants  of  the  wood  with  that  re- 
freshment which  is  most  desirable  at  such  periods. 
The  larger  cottage  was,  however,  more  deeply  em- 
bosomed in  the  wood,  insomuch  so  that  its  white 
walls  and  black  timbers  were  hardly  discoverable 
from  the  little  path,  along  which  was  the  ordinary 
passage  from  the  nearest  village  to  the  highest  re- 
gions of  the  hills.  About  sixty  years  ago,  these 
cottages  were  inhabited  by  two  families,  one  of 
which,  being  pious,  was  as  remarkable  for  its  de- 
cency, order,  and  honesty,  as  the  other  was  for  the 
contrary. 

The  names  of  persons  in  Germany  are  so  diffe- 
rent from  ours  in  England,  that  it  might  perplex 
you  were  I  to  give  them  at  full  length ;  I  shall  there- 
fore content  myself  by  calling  the  father  of  the 
pious  family  Wilhelm,  and  his  wife  Anna,  and  giv- 
ing the  name  of  Hugo  and  Ursula  to  the  man  and 
woman  who  lived  in  their  neighbourhood.  It  was 
in  the  cottage  without  the  wood  in  which  Wilhelm 
and  his  family  lived  ;  and  this  light  and  pleasant 
dwelling,  where  the  sound  of  rushing  waters,  and 
the  songs  of  the  many  birds  who  came  to  allay 
their  thirst  at  the  flowing  brook,  supplied  a  perpe- 
tual feast  to  the  ear,  was  no  doubt  more  suitable 
to  them  than  the  dark  and  gloomy  cottage  which  had 
fallen  to  the  lot  of  Hugo,  in  which  many  namejess 
deeds  might  be  done,  unmarked  by  any  other  eye 
than  that  of  him  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  Yea,  the 
darkness  hideth  not  from  thee,  but  the  night  shineth 
as  the  day  ;  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both 
alike  to  thee."  Ps.  cxxxix.  12. 

And  now,  because  I  do  not  mean  to  say  much  of 
old  Hugo  and  his  wife  Ursula,  I  shall  content  my- 
self with  observing,  that  nobody  knew  how  the  man 


procured  his  living,  though  most  people  supposed 
that  it  was  by  stealing,  or  some  other  dishonest 
means  ;  whilst  Ursula,  at  the  time  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  chiefly  employed  herself  in  going  about 
the  country,  dressed  in  an  old  petticoat  patched 
with  every  variety  of  rags,  a  gray  cloak  full  of  slits, 
a  dirty  straw  hat,  and  not  unseldom  carrying  hei 
little  daughter,  about  four  years  of  age,  upon  her 
back  ;  whilst  her  son,  who  was  as  much  as  six  years 
older  than  his  sister,  ran  by  her  side  without  shoes 
or  stockings,  and  scarcely  covered  from  the  heat  of 
the  sun  in  summer,  or  the  cold  in  winter,  by  the 
wretched  rags  which  hung  from  his  shoulders. 

When  Ursula  set  out  in  this  way,  she  often  did 
not  return  for  several  days,  during  which  time  the 
cottage  was  commonly  shut  up  ;  and  what  she  got 
by  these  journies  it  was  not  easy  to  say,  for  no  one 
went  into  her  house;  and  whatever  her  gains  might 
be,  she  never  laid  aside  her  ragged  petticoat,  or  sup- 
plied her  children  with  decent  garments  of  any  kind. 

And  now,  having  given  you  an  account  of  the 
manner  of  life  of  this  miserable  family,  or  at  least 
told  you  all  that  was  known  of  it  by  the  neigh- 
bours, I  shall  turn  to  more  agreeable  matters,  and 
we  will  take  a  view  of  Wilhelm  in  his  pleasant  cot- 
tage, with  his  good  wife  and  three  neat  and  pious* 
little  children. 

Wilhelm  was  a  day  labourer,  and  though  he  earn- 
ed but  little,  yet  he  brought  all  he  got  to  his  wife, 
who  put  every  thing  to  the  best  advantage,  and  en- 
deavoured as  much  as  possible  to  add  to  her  hus- 
band's gains  by  her  own  little  exertions — by  culti- 
vating with  the  help  of  her  children  the  small  gar- 
den which  was  joined  to  the  house — by  gathering 
wood  for  their  use  in  the  forest,  and  by  spinning 
and  knitting  her  husband's  stockings,  and  other  lit- 
1* 


6 

tie  contrivances,  of  which  a  careful  woman  knows 
so  well  how  to  avail  herself. 

There  are  many  persons  in  Germany  who  have 
very  wrong  notions  of  the  religion  of  Christ,  and 
who,  departing  from  the  appointed  means  of  ad- 
dressing God  the  Father  in  prayer  through  Christ, 
use  the  mediation  of  the  Virgin  Mary  and  of  the 
Saints.  And  close  by  the  cottage  of  Wilhelm,  un- 
der the  shade  of  a  wide  spreading  elm,  there  was 
actually  a  little  chapel,  where  through  an  iron  grate 
might  be  seen  a  figure  of  the  Virgin,  of  stone,  and 
four  angels  of  the  same  materials  kneeling  round 
as  in  the  act  of  prayer.  Wilhelm,  however,  never 
went  near  this  chapel,  but  every  Sabbath  day  ac- 
companied his  wife  and  children  to  a  place  of  wor- 
ship in  the  village,  which  was  but  an  English  mile 
from  his  house  ;  in  which  place  this  little  family  en- 
joyed the  privilege  of  hearing  the  true  word  of  the 
Lord  from  a  faithful  Minister  of  the  reformed 
church,  that  is,  of  the  church  which,  having  re- 
nounced all  false  worship,  has  adopted  that  perfect 
faith  which  is  alone  derived  from  the  Bible. 

The  remainder  of  the  Sabbath  was  spent  by  Wil- 
helm in  instructing  his  children  in  the  things  of  the 
Lord  ;  and  as  this  had  been  his  practice  from  their 
earliest  infancy,  at  the  time  when  Albert,  his  eldest 
son,  was  twelve  years  of  age,  and  his  daughter  Em- 
ma in  her  eleventh  year,  he  not  only  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  them  capable  of  reading  the 
Word  of  God,  but  of  knowing  that  they  were  well 
acquainted  with  many  passages  in  this  Holy  Book, 
whereby  he  trusted  that,  with  the  Divine  blessing, 
they  would  be  rendered  wise  unto  salvation,  through 
faith  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  Neither  had  this 
excellent  father  less  delight  in  his  youngest  child, 
little  George,  who,  though  scarcely  five  years  of  age, 


could  repeat  many  hymns,  and  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  Catechism  of  the  ancient  Waldenses,  of  which 
his  father  had  a  copy,  and  which  was  called  by  ex- 
cellence the  Noble  Lesson.  Well  would  it  be  for 
poor  labouring  men  in  this  country  if  they  would  fol- 
low the  example  of  this  obscure  German;  for  although 
those  are  highly  to  be  commended  who,  not  being 
themselves  able  to  instruct  their  children  on  the 
Sabbath,  are  diligent  and  careful  in  sending  them  to 
a  place  of  instruction,  yet  those  do  better  who  de- 
vote their  own  time  to  this  precious  work,  who  em- 
ploy all  their  leisure  on  this  holy  clay  in  teaching 
their  children  the  blessed  word  of  God,  and  who 
continually  lead  the  uncertain  steps  of  their  tender 
little  ones  towards  the  house  of  prayer. 

It  may  be  supposed  that  these  excellent  parents 
did  not  allow  their  young  ones  to  associate  much 
with  Stephen  and  Margot,  the  children  of  their 
neighbour  Hugo  ;  nevertheless,  they  could  not  be 
prevented  from  sometimes  meeting  them  in  the 
forest,  and  interchanging  a  few  words  with  them. 

It  happened  one  day  in  the  spring  of  the  year, 
that  Wilhelm  being  at  work,  and  his  wife  gone  to 
the  village,  where  she  expected  to  be  detained  till 
evening,  their  three  children,  who  were  left  alone, 
having  smothered  the  glowing  embers  on  the  hearth 
with  ashes,  and  locked  the  door  of  the  house,  went 
out  into  the  wood  to  gather  sticks,  which  they 
formed  into  bundles  and  placed  together  in  heaps, 
till  their  father  should  be  at  liberty  to  bring  them 
home  in  his  barrow. 

The  privilege  of  supplying  themselves  with  fuel 
from  the  forest  was  allowed  them  by  the  lord  of 
the  manor,  and  they  were  therefore  innocently  em- 
ployed in  endeavouring  to  collect  it ;  their  mother 
had  promised  to  give  each  of  them  a  cake  of  white 


8 

bread  on  her  return  if  she  found  that  they  had 
worked  well,  and  being  encourao-ed  by  this  prospect, 
and  the  wish  of  pleasing  their  dear  parent,  they 
laboured  hard  till  noon,  when  being  somewhat  tired 
they  sat  down  on  a  mossy  bank  under  the  trees,  and 
took  the  dinner  which  their  mother  had  prepared  for 
them,  from  a  napkin  in  which  she  had  folded  it. 
It  consisted  of  coarse  brown  bread,  on  which  a  few 
curds  were  spread,  and  this  very  plain  and  ordinary 
fare  was  sweetened  to  the  little  children  by  their 
previous  labour  and  humble  habits. 

Whilst  these  little  people  of  the  wood  were  thus 
enjoying  their  pleasant  repast,  and  were  watching, 
as  they  sat  at  ease  on  their  mossy  couch,  two  or 
three  beautiful  butterflies  who  were  playing  among 
the  flowers  at  their  feet,  suddenly  they  heard  a  foot- 
step, and  in  a  few  minutes  Ursula  appeared  coming 
towards  them  from  the  interior  of  the  forest. 

Her  tall,  thin,  and  upright  figure,  first  showed  it- 
self where  the  branches  of  the  trees  formed  a  kind 
of  archway,  or  long  shadowy  passage,  which  wound 
away  into  the  depths  of  the  wood.  She  wore  as 
usual  her  petticoat  of  many  colours  and  her  gray 
cloak,  but  her  straw  hat  hung  behind  her  head, 
being  fastened  in  that  situation  by  the  strings  which 
were  tied  under  her  chin,  and  on  her  head  she  had  a 
large  bundle  closely  fastened  up,  which  appeared  to 
be  heavy.  She  came  forward,  turning  neither  to 
the  right  nor  left,  with  a  steady  even  step  ;  and  when 
she  entered  into  the  more  open  part  of  the  wood, 
and  near  the  little  family  of  Wilhelm,  they  per- 
ceived that  she  was  followed  by  Stephen  and  Mar- 
got,  padding  after  her  without  shoes  or  stockings, 
and  finding  it  difficult  with  their  short  and  quick 
steps  to  keep  pace  with  the  apparent  slow  yet  regu 
lar  progress  of  their  mother. 


9 

The  children  of  Wilhelm  had  always  entertained 
an  extreme  dread  of  Ursula  ;  they  therefore,  as  she 
came  on,  drew  closer  to  each  other,  and  little 
George  contrived  to  insert  himself  between  his  elder 
orother  and  sister,  as  in  the  place  of  the  greatest 
security  in  the  absence  of  his  mother  ;  but  Ursula 
came  on,  and  was  for  a  moment  in  a  direct  line  with 
the  affrighted  children,  and  then  passed  forward  to 
her  own  house,  without  giving  any  other  indication 
of  her  having  seen  her  little  neighbours  than  a  slight 
motion  of  contempt,  which  agitated  her  upper  lip 
and  the  lower  part  of  her  nostrils,  at  the  moment  of 
her  being  nearest  to  them.  But  though  Ursula  did 
not  think  it  worth  her  while  to  take  the  slightest  no- 
tice of  the  little  company  as  she  passed,  it  was  not 
so  with  Stephen  ;  for  when  he  came  up  to  the  chil- 
dren he  stood  quite  still,  and  having  looked  at  them 
for  a  moment,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  contemptuous  tone, 
"  Bread  and  sour  curds  !"  concluding  with  a  loud 
laugh. 

"  Well,"  said  Albert,  flushing  with  indignation 
"and  what  then, — what  can  be  better?"  "Pasty,"  (re 
turned  Stephen,  in  a  provoking  tone,)  "boar  hams, 
and  larded  pullets."  "  What  are  those  1"  said  Al- 
bert. "  They  are  what  you  know  nothing  about," 
replied  Stephen  laughing  ;  "  folks  who  stay  always 
at  home  shut  up  in  a  wood  and  reading  good  books, 
seldom  know  much  of  such  things,"  and  he  laughed 
again  in  a  manner  very  provoking  to  Albert,  and 
was  joined  in  his  laugh  by  his  little  sister,  who  held 
him  by  the  hand.  This  little  girl  might  have  been 
counted  a  lovely  child  had  she  not  been  ragged  and 
sun-burnt,  and  her  head  and  part  of  her  face  covered 
with  a  quantity  of  uncombed  hair,  which  being  na- 
turally crisp  and  inclined  to  curl,  stood  up  above  her 
srnall  features  like  the  feathers  of  the  hooded  owl  ; 


10 

added  to  which,  the  total  neglect  of  her  education 
having  left  her  without  an  idea  of  her  God  or  her 
duty,  her  face  was  in  consequence  wholly  without 
meaning  excepting  when  she  was  pleased,  and  then 
she  suddenly  passed  from  extreme  gravity  to  a  loud 
laugh,  often  accompanying  her  laughter  with  a 
jumping  motion,  which  at  this  time  greatly  increased 
the  displeasure  of  Albert,  who  was  naturally  of  a 
hot  temper,  although  this  temper  had  been  much 
corrected  by  judicious  management  of  his  parents, 
who  had  not  unseldom  laid  before  him  the  sinfulness 
of  yielding  to  angry  passions  ;  for  it  is  written  in 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  "  Cease  from  anger  and  forsake 
wrath,  fret  not  thyself  in  any  wise  to  do  evil."  Psal. 
xxxvii.  8. 

However,  this  daf,  when  he  heard  the  mocks  and 
taunts  of  Stephen,  and  saw  the  wild  grimaces  of 
Margot,  he  broke  out  into  a  violent  fit  of  anger, 
and  had  taken  up  a  stick,  intending  to  strike  Stephen, 
had  not  his  sister  held  his  arm,  using  all  the  force 
she  possessed,  and  at  the  same  time  saying,  "  For 
shame,  brother,  what  would  our  mother  say  if  she 
were  to  see  you  VJ 

"  Oh,  don't  hold  him  back,"  said  Stephen,  "  I 
wish  he  would  strike  me,  and  then  I  would  let  him 
know  that  I  am  as  good  as  he  is,  though  I  am  not 
dressed  so  like  a  gentleman  ;"  and  then,  laughing 
and  putting  his  hands  to  his  sides,  "  but  I  am  as  well 
fed  as  he  any  how,"  he  added,  "  thanks  to  these  rags 
which  he  despises  so  much,  and  the  wry  faces  and 
dismal  looks  which  I  can  put  on  when  I  have  a 
mind." 

"  Oh,  Stephen,"  replied  Emma,  whilst  she  drew 
her  brother  down  upon  the  grass  by  her  side, 
and  still  held  his  arm,  "  how  can  you  boast  of  that 
which  ought  to  be  your  shame'?" 


11 


"  Shame,"  repeated  Stephen,  "  shame,  what  do 


vou  mean 


?" 


"  Why,"  returned  Emma,  "  of  the  life  you  lead, 
going  about  the  country  as  you  do,  and  pretending 
those  things  which  are  not  true." 

"  What  things  ?"  asked  Stephen. 

"  Going  about  begging,  and  stealing,"  added  Al 
bert,  "  you  know  very  well  what  Emma  means,  only 
you  pretend  not ;  but  tell  me,  I  say,  are  not  you 
just  returned  from  one  of  your  begging  journies  ? 
and  if  you  have  not  been  stealing  as  well  as  beg- 
ging, it  is  only  because  nothing  has  come  in  your 
way  which  you  could  get  at  without  being  found 
out." 

"  For  shame,  brother,"  said  Emma,  "  what  right 
have  we  to  call  our  neighbours  thieves  f" 

"Well,"  said  Albert,  "  I  will  not  call  them  thieves, 
if  that  offends  you,  but  I  suppose  they  won't  deny 
that  they  are  beggars." 

"  No,  to  be  sure  we  will  not,"  replied  Stephen, 
"  we  are  beggars,  and  we  glory  in  it ;  it's  the  best 
trade  poor  folks  can  follow ;  beggars  are  not  obli- 
ged to  dine  on  brown  bread  and  sour  sauce,"  and 
again  he  laughed,  and  was  again  joined  by  his  little 
sister. 

On  which  Albert's  indignation  rose,  and  I  know 
not  what  angry  words  he  might  have  used,  if  Em- 
ma had  not  put  her  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"  Let  him  alone,  let  him  alone,"  said  Stephen, 
"he  is  only  spiteful  because  he  knows  what  rare  lives 
we  beggars  lead,  and  how  well  we  fare ;  we  have 
many  a  feast,  which  you  hard  working  pious  folks 
never  taste  ;"  and  with  that  he  drew  from  a  bag 
which  hung  among  the  rags  on  his  breast  a  piece  of 
cheese  and  a  cake  of  the  whitest  bread. 


12 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  ?*  said  Albert. 

"  Oh,  where  did  I  get  this,"  returned  Stephen, 
"  where,  how,  when  !  not  by  stopping  at  home,  not 
by  picking  sticks.  I  got  it  by  going  from  home,  by 
making  wry  faces,  and  telling  dismal  stories,  by 
limping  on  one  leg,  and  putting  my  linger  in  my  eye, 
and  talking  of  being  famished,  and  saying  I  had  no 
father  or  mother,  and  that  little  sister  and  I  had  riot 
a  friend  in  the  world  ;  and  I  told  this  long  story  to 
some  little  master  who  was  going  to  school,  so  he 
pulled  his  satchel  from  his  back  and  gave  me  his 
dinner,  and  I  put  it  into  my  satchel,  and  it  will  serve 
me  for  supper  :  but  I  fear  little  master  will  be  more 
hungry  before  night  than  I  shall  be,  for  mother  has 
got  something  more  relishing  than  this  for  dinner, 
has  not  she,  little  one  ?  but  this  reminds  me  that  we 
must  not  stand  here  talking."  So  nodding  familiarly 
at  Albert  he  ran  off,  his  little  sister  padding  after 
him. 

Stephen  and  Margot  had  scarcely  turned  their 
backs  on  Wilhelm's  children  before  Albert  gave  free 
vent  to  his  anger,  neither  sparing  the  words  beggar, 
thief,  or  liar  ;  and  wishing  that  his  sister  had  not 
prevented  him  from  giving  Stephen  such  a  beating 
as  he  deserved. 

"  And  now,"  added  the  angry  boy,  "  he  is  gone  to 
his  house  to  feed  on  his  ill  gotten  goods, — look 
where  the  chimney  of  old  Hugo's  cottage  rises  up 
among  the  trees,  just  beside  yonder  oak.  Look 
now  how  the  smoke  curls  thick  from  the  mouth, — 
there  are  rare  doings,  no  doubt,  now  rcund  yonder 
hearth." 

"  Albert,"  said  Emma,  "  now  do  not  be  so  chafed 
and  fretted  as  you  are  about  these  poor  people,  re- 
member the  words  which  our  father  taught  us  last 


13 

Lord's  day,  '  Fret  not  thyself  because  of  evil 
doers,  neither  be  thou  envious  against  the  workers 
of  iniquity.  For  they  soon  shall  be  cut  down  like 
the  grass,  and  wither  as  the  green  herb.'  Psalm 
xxxvii.  1,  2. 

"  And  as  to  those  poor  children,  my  heart  aches 
for  them  ;  think  what  a  father  and  mother  they 
have,  think  how  miserable  we  should  be  if  Hugo 
and  Ursula  were  our  parents,  instead  of  those  we 
have  ;  or  only  suppose  that  poor  little  George  had 
been  born  the  child  of  Ursula  instead  of  our  mo- 
ther." 

"  Oh  !"  said  George,  "  I  would  not  have  had 
her  for  my  mother,  I  am  sure  I  would  not — her  face 
frightens  me  whenever  I  look  at  it,  and  I  would  al- 
most as  soon  meet  a  wolf  in  the  wood." 

"  Well  then,"  returned  Emma,  "  you  ought  to  be 
sorry  for  little  Margot,  and  to  pity  her,  and  to  pray 
that  God  would  take  care  of  her,  and  not  to  look 
angry  at  her  as  you  did  but  now  ;  for  there  is  one 
thing,  Albert,"  added  she,  turning  to  her  elder  bro- 
ther, "which  we  ought  to  remember,  that  is,  that  we 
are  all  naturally  sinful  ;  there -is  none  that  doeth 
good,  no  not  one  ;  and  that  if  we  do  not  go  about 
begging  and  telling  lies,  as  Hugo's  children  do,  it  is 
because  our  father  and  mother  have  brought  us  up 
in  another  way, — and  it  is  God  who  has  given  us 
these  parents  ;  so  we  owe  it  all  to  God  that  we  are 
not  like  Stephen  and  Margot,  and  we  ought  to  thank 
God,  instead  of  being  unkind  to  them." 

"  I  know  that  you  are  right,  Emma,"  said  Albert, 
"  quite  right,  and  that  I  am  wrong  ;  but  I  hate  beg- 
gars and  thieves,  and  that  little  jumping,  grinning 
thing  provokes  me  so  much." 

The  tears  came  into  Emma's  eyes  when  Albert 
spoke  these  words,  but  she  did  not  answer. 
2 


14 

"  Why  are  the  tears  in  your  eyes,  Emma  ?"  said 
Albert,  tenderly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Emma,  "  but  I  don't  like 
you  to  speak  unkindly  of  Margot.  I  remember 
her  when  she  was  a  little  baby,  and  she  was  very 
pretty  then,— I  once  took  care  of  her  for  several 
days  when  her  mother  was  sick,  and  fed  her  with 
the  milk  of  our  goat." 

"  Then  I  won't  speak  another  unkind  word  about 
her,"  said  Albert,  rubbing  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes, 
"  and  I  won't  say  that  I  hate  beggars  and  thieves, 
but  that  I  hate  begging  and  stealing,  because  you 
know  father  told  us,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
hates  sin,  but  loves  the  sinner.  And  now,  George," 
he  said,  "  now  for  our  work." 

Emma,  Albert,  and  George,  then  went  to  work 
again.  Albert  was  furnished  with  a  quantity  of 
small  cord,  which  his  father  had  cut  into  proper 
lengths,  and  Albert's  way  was  to  spread  one  of  these 
pieces  of  cordon  the  ground,  and  then  with  his  brother 
and  sister's  help  he  soon  gathered  together  as  many 
sticks  as  the  cord  would  bind  up,  and  when  they 
were  thus  fastened,  the  bundles  of  sticks  were  car- 
ried to  the  heap  ready  to  be  brought  home.  Albert 
had  just  finished  one  of  these  bundles,  and  was 
carrying  it  to  his  heap,  when  Stephen  and  Margot 
came  out  from  the  cottage  to  look  for  wood,  ex- 
claiming in  some  distress,  "  that  their  father  was 
just  come  in,  and  was  in  great  haste  for  his  dinner, 
and  there  was  no  wood  gathered  to  keep  up  the  fire." 
The  complaints  of  Stephen  were  not  intended  to  be 
heard  by  Albert,  but  he  did  hear  them,  and  remem- 
bering what  his  sister  had  just  said  to  him,  he  took 
up  the  bundle  of  sticks  which  he  had  last  thrown 
down,  and  making  his  way  through  the  bushes  to 
Stephen,  he  begged  him  to  accept  of  it. 


15 

"  And  can't  I  gather  sticks  myself?"  said  Stephen, 
who  did  not  at  first  seem  to  be  able  to  conceive  how 
Albert  could  intend  him  this  kindness. 

"  Yes,"  said  Albert,  "  but  are  not  you  in  a  hurry?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  am,"  said  Stephen,  brightening 
up,  "  for  when  father  comes  home  we  must  all  run, 
mother  and  all,  therefore  I  take  this  kindly  of  you, 
Albert,  and  shall  be  glad  to  do  you  a  good  turn 
when  it  is  in  my  power." 

Stephen  then  took  the  sticks  and  ran  back  to  the 
cottage,  whilst  Wilhelm's  children  went  back  to  their 
work. 

In  the  evening,  when  Anna  returned  from  the  vil- 
lage, her  children  gave  her  an  account  of  all  that 
had  passed  during  the  day,  and  Albert  was  com- 
mended for  his  kindness  respecting  the  sticks  ; 
"  who  knows,"  said  she,  "  but  that  by  showing  af- 
fection to  these  poor  children,  you  may  be  the  means 
of  making1  them  understand  that  religion  is  a  most 
beautiful  and  desirable  thing,  and  that  which  renders 
little  children  more  happy  and  amiable  than  all 
other  things  beside  ;  dishonest  ways,  my  dear  chil- 
dren, may  seem  to  prosper  for  a  time,  and  persons 
who  live  by  begging  and  stealing  may  sometimes 
possess  some  things  which  poor  honest  people  can- 
not procure  ;  but  these  are  the  words  of  scripture, 
Jeremiah  xvii.  10,  11, — '  I  the  Lord  search  the 
heart,  I  try  the  reins,  even  to  give  every  man  ac- 
cording to  his  ways,  and  according  to  the  fruit  of  his 
doings.'  i  As  the  partridge  sitteth  on  eggs  and  hatcheth 
them  not,  so  he  that  getteth  riches  and  not  by  right, 
shall  leave  them  in  the  middle  of  his  days,  and  at 
his  end  shall  be  a  fool.'  And  again,  Psalm  xi.  3,  4, 
— '  The  integrity  of  the  upright  shall  guide  them, 
but  the  perverseness  of  transgressors  shall  destroy 
them  ;  and  riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of  wrath, 


16 

but  righteousness  delivereth  from  death.'  There- 
fore he  who  wishes  to  do  well  for  his  family,  will 
take  care  that  they  shall  never  i?e  fed  by  the  wages 
of  iniquity." 

Before  the  family  of  Wilhelm  had  closed  theii 
doors  for  the  night,  Stephen  and  his  little  sister  ap- 
peared peeping  in  at  a  window  of  green  glass,  whose 
small  panes  gave  light  to  an  inner  room  where  was 
Albert's  bed.  Albert,  who  was  undressing  himself, 
saw  them  jumping  and  hopping  before  the  window, 
but  he  did  not  choose  to  speak  to  them,  because  he 
knew  his  parents  did  not  wish  them  to  be  encou- 
raged to  come  about  the  house  ;  however,  he  asked 
his  mother  to  go  out  to  them,  and  she  presently  re- 
turned with  a  large  bunch  of  early  flowers,  and  a 
few  wild  strawberries,  which  the  poor  little  beggars 
desired  might  be  divided  among  the  children. 

t(  And  in  return  for  which,"  said  Albert's  mother, 
"  let  us  remember  to  pray  for  them  whenever  we 
kneel  down  to  address  our  Maker." 

The  next  morning,  when  Wilhelm  went  out  to 
bring  in  the  wood  which  his  children  had  collected 
the  day  before,  he  saw  that  Hugo's  door  was  shut, 
and  the  windows  closed,  neither  was  there  any 
smoke  rising  from  the  chimney;  and  from  that  time 
till  many  months  had  passed  away,  nothing  more 
was  heard  of  Hugo  and  his  family. 

The  little  beggars  were  still  however  remembered 
in  the  daily  prayers  of  Wilhelm  and  his  family. 
And  the  nosegay  was -still  recollected,  long  after  the 
flowers  of  which  it  was  composed  had  faded  into 
dust. 

Now  it  was  so  common  a  thing  for  Hugo's  family 
all  to  be  out  for  several  days,  and  even  weeks,  in 
fine  seasons,  that  Wilhelm  and  his  wife,  when  they 
first  missed  them,  felt  no  concern  about  them  ;  but 


17 

when  week  went  on  after  week,  and  month  after 
month,  they  began  to  be  troubled  about  them,  and 
though  they  had  always  been  bad  neighbours,  to 
feel  some  anxiety  lest  they  should  come  to  any  evil. 

And  now,  as  the  wonder  of  their  long  absence 
became  daily  greater,  Anna  took  occasion  one  day, 
when  business  called  her  to  the  market  in  the  vil- 
lage, to  make  some  inquiries  respecting  her  lost 
neighbours,  from  such  persons  as  she  thought  most 
likely  to  give  her  satisfaction. 

"  Good  woman,"  said  one,  to  whom  she  put  the 
question,  to  wit,  if  he  knew  aught  of  the  family  of 
Hugo,  "  you  are  inquiring  after  those  who  are  not 
worth  the  trouble  ; — as  to  old  Hugo,  we  know  little 
of  him,  but  he  herds,  no  doubt,  with  the  worst  of 
people  ;  nevertheless,  as  he  goes  farther  a-field  than 
his  wife,  his  exploits  are  less  public,  at  least  in  this 
place,  than  her's.  But  beggary  and  deception  are 
the  whole  business  of  the  woman,  and  she  carried 
on  her  trade  hereabouts  with  no  small  success  till 
her  name  became  notorious,  and  the  sight  of  her 
ragged  cloak  and  patched  petticoat  was  enough  to 
drive  out  charity  from  every  heart.  On  which, 
when  she  found  herself  detected  every  where,  she 
ook  to  send  her  little  ones  in  her  place,  putting 
.hem  upon  such  tricks  as  could  hardly  be  conceived 
by  any  honest  person.  Thus  for  awhile  she  prospered 
through  this  new  device,  but  even  this  must  needs 
grow  stale  after  a  while ;  and  no  doubt  she  has  found 
it  so,  and  is  gone  to  some  other  country,  where  she 
may  practise  all  her  old  tricks  over  again." 

Such  was  the  answer  which  Anna  got  from  one  ; 
and  another,  to  whom  she  put  the  same  question, 
made  her  a  reply  much  to  the  same  purpose  ;  and  so 
on  to  a  third,  and  a  fourth  :  till  at  length  being 
ashamed  of  seeming  to  care  for  such  disreputable 
2* 


18 

persons,  she  returned  home  as  ignorant  as  she  went 
out. 

Thus  passed  the  summer,  whilst  Albert,  and  Em- 
ma, and  little  George,  grew  and  flourished,  and  be- 
came every  day  greater  comforts  to  their  parents.  It 
is  true,  that  their  clothes  were  coarse,  but  they  were 
whole  and  clean  ;  their  food  was  of  an  ordinary 
kind,  but  it  was  plentiful  and  wholesome  ;  and  if 
they  worked  hard,  their  sleep  was  refreshing,  and 
they  awoke  in  the  morning  healthy  and  refreshed. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  flowers  of  spring  had  given 
way  to  those  of  summer,  and  those  of  summer  to 
the  more  gaudy  flowers  of  autumn  ;  the  blossoms  in 
the  orchards  had  become  fruit,  and  the  fruit  was 
housed  and  gathered  ;  the  fields  had  become  white 
with  harvest,  and  the  corn  had  been  stored  up  ;  but 
still  no  one  opened  the  door  of  Hugo's  house,  or 
lighted  the  fire  upon  the  hearth. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Stephen  again,"  said  Al- 
bert, one  day,  to  Emma,  "  and  that  little  jumping 
thing  by  his  side.  Poor  Stephen  !  I  wonder  what 
is  become  of  him." 

"  Ah,  you  may  well  say  poor  Stephen,"  said  Al- 
bert's mother,  "  he  is  an  unfortunate  little  boy.  1 
have  known  his  mother  long  ;  I  am  less  acquainted 
with  his  father.  We  were  both  young  women  when 
we  were  married  and  became  neighbours,  and  at 
that  time  she  often  used  to  come  into  our  house,  and 
talk  to  me  as  I  sat  at  work  :  but  her  principles  then 
were  very  bad  ;  she  had  no  fear  of  God,  and  used 
to  speak  with  disrespect  of  the  laws  of  her  country. 
She  also  hated  work;  and  though  she  loved  the  good 
things  which  can  only  be  procured  in  a  creditable 
way  by  the  labour  of  the  hand  by  such  poor  peo- 
ple as  we  are,  yet  she  would  have  it  that  she  could 
get  much  more  by  going  about  the  country  and  tell- 


19 

ing  lamentable  tales  to  excite  people's  pity,  than  by 
honest  and  regular  labour.  In  vain  did  I  try  to 
persuade  her  that  she  was  taking  the  wrong  way, 
and  that  she  would  in  the  end  be  made  to  feel  the 
consequence  of  these  evil  practices  ;  and  in  vain 
did  your  good  father  read  to  her  what  is  said  on 
these  subjects  in  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Poor  Ursu- 
la was  not  one  who  heeded  the  Bible,  for  she  was  a 
papist,  and  believed  that  the  priest  had  power  to 
absolve  her  from  all  her  sins.  So  after  a  while  we 
ceased  to  argue  with  her,  or  indeed  to  hold  discourse 
with  her  on  any  other  subject  ;  for  when  we  found 
that  she  was  quite  hardened  in  her  evil  ways,  and 
began  to  be  talked  of  about  the  country,  it  became 
dangerous  for  us  to  have  any  connexion  with  the 
family,  or  to  be  seen  within  the  doors  of  the  house. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  one  duty  which  we  may  per- 
form for  these  poor  people,  and  that  is,  we  may  re- 
member them  in  our  prayers,  and  that  I  trust  we 
shall  not  neglect." 

The  good  mother  then  went  on  to  point  out  to 
her  children  that  they  were  by  nature  no  better  than 
Hugo  and  his  family  ;  and  on  this  occasion  she 
failed  not  to  speak  to  them  of  the  natural  depra- 
vity of  the  heart  of  man,  and  to  show  that  when 
one  man  was  made  to  differ  in  any  respect  from 
another,  it  was  merely  the  effect  of  the  free  gracefof 
God,  and  not  of  his  own  endeavours.  And  then, 
aking  the  Noble  Lesson  as  her  pattern,  she  laid  be- 
fore her  children  a  short  outline  of  the  scheme  of 
salvation  by  Christ.  She  first  spoke  of  the  nature 
and  power  of  God,  and  pointed  out  that  in  the  unity 
of  God  there  are  three  persons,  namely,  God  the 
Father,  £od  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Showing  how  these  divine  persons  are  equally  and 
distinctly  engaged  in  the  restoration  of  the  sinner 


20 

to  holiness  and  happiness  ;  endeavouring  as  much 
as  in  her  lay,  to  make  them  sensible  that  all  those 
spiritual  blessings,  whereby  one  sinful  creature  is 
made  in  any  degree  superior  to  another,  are  receiv- 
ed wholly  and  entirely  through  the  favour  of  the 
Almighty,  as  the  Apostle  speaks  to  the  children  of 
God,  in  Ephesians  ii.  8 — 10. 

In  this  manner  Anna  conversed  with  her  children 
on  the  occasion  above  described,  and  no  doubt, 
whenever  mention  was  made  of  the  lost  family,  all 
her  discourse  tended  in  the  same  degree  to  lead  them 
to  distinguish  and  shun  their  faults,  without  encou- 
raging in  them  any  feelings  of  hatred  and  dislike. 

It  was  not  many  days  after  this  conversation  that 
an  old  pedlar,  a  very  decent  man,  who  had  been  ac- 
customed to  travel  th©  country  for  many  years,  call- 
ed at  the  cottage  of  Wilhelm,  to  beg  a  night's  lodg- 
ing for  himself,  and  a  corner  of  the  cottage  fbr  his 
pack. 

Few  years  had  passed  since  Wilhelm  and  his  wife 
had  inhabited  the  cottage  in  the  wood,  in  which  this 
poor  man  had  failed  to  make  them  a  visit,  being 
sure  of  a  hearty  welcome,  and  the  best  refreshment 
which  the  house  could  afford. 

It  was  always  a  day  of  joy  to  the  children  when 
this  visitor  appeared,  not  only  because  he  common- 
ly presented  each  of  them  with  some  trifle  from  his 
stores,  but  because  he  had  many  curious  adventures 
to  relate,  such  as  children  love  to  hear,  and  such  as 
travellers  are  accustomed  to  encounter. 

At  this  time  it  was  to  be  expected  that  the  dis- 
course should  run  upon  the  extraordinary  mystery 
which  hung  upon  the  family  of  Hugo,  which,  Anna 
informed  the  old  man,  had  not  been  lieardTof  in  the 
neighourhood  for  many  months. 

"  Say  you  so  ?M  said  the  pedlar,  "  then  I  can  give 


21 

you  some  tidings  of  them.  Hugo  himself  will 
scarcely  be  seen  again  in  this  part  of  the  world, 
for  I  have  reason  to  think  he  has  found  it  necessary 
to  take  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  those  who 
would  have  taken  cognizance  of  his  vile  actions  : — 
and  as  to  Ursula,  I  am  much  mistaken  if  I  did  not  see 
her  about  two  months  ago,  sitting  under  a  hedge  by 
the  wray  side,  near  a  village  as  much  as  forty  miles 
from  this  place  :  what  business  had  brought  her  so 
far  I  know  not,  but  she  looked  miserably  sickly,  and 
covered  with  rags,  and  two  unhappy  children  were 
seated  by  her  side.  She  was,  no  doubt,  still  follow- 
ing her  old  mode  of  life,  begging,  stealing,  and  tell- 
ing fortunes,  sometimes  being  full  of  money,  and 
sometimes  without  a  penny  ;  sometimes  living  in  riot 
and  drunkenness,  and  sometimes  enduring  long  and 
severe  abstinence  ;  not  considering  that  the  little 
gains  which  she  may  have  to  boast  of  will  all  melt 
away  as  waters  which  run  continually  ;  whilst  the 
afflictions  of  the  lot  which  she  has  chosen  will  be- 
come permanent." 

Wilhelm  and  Anna  were  much  troubled  by  the 
account  which  the  pedlar  gave  of  their  former 
neighbours,  being  particularly  uneasy  about  the 
children  ;  and  the  next  morning  when  Anna  opened 
the  door  of  her  house,  and  looked  towards  the  empty 
cottage,  before  which  the  weeds,  grass,  and  dried 
leaves,  had  covered  the  path-way,  she  could  not  help 
sighing,  and  thinking  how  often  she  had  seen  little 
Stephen  and  Margot  playing  in  that  place  ; — "  and 
what  now,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  is  the  situation 
of  these  poor  children  1"  Albert  and  Emma  too, 
often  spoke  of  them,  and  Albert  wished  that  Stephen 
might  come  back,  in  order  that  he  might  show  him 
some  token  of  kindness,  in  return  for  his  nosegay. 
But  autumn  advanced,   the  vintage   was  gathered 


22 

in,  the  last  load  of  corn  was  housed  in  the  barns, 
and  the  forest  assumed  a  variety  of  beautiful  co 
lours  ;  brown,  and  red,  and  yellow  leaves  hung  on 
every  tree,  and  the  brakes  were  filled  with  clusters 
of  red  berries.  At  length  the  shrivelled  leaves  fell 
from  the  branches  of  the  forest,  and  the  yew,  the 
holly,  and  the  pine,  became  remarkable  among  the 
leafless  shafts  of  the  surrounding  trees. 

Albert  and  Emma  had  almost  ceased  to  say,  "  we 
wonder  why  Stephen  and  Margot  don't  come  back," 
for  they  had  left  off  expecting  them  ;  but  they  fre- 
quently exclaimed,  "  poor  Stephen,  poor  Margot, 
where  are  they  now  ?  we  hope  they  are  not  cold." 

At  length,  one  morning,  when  Wilhelm's  family 
arose,  they  observed  that  ail  the  summits  of  the 
mountains  which  were  visible  were  covered  with 
snow,  which  had  fallen  in  the  night ;  and  the  next 
day  the  snow  began  to  fall  in  the  lower  regions, 
whilst  a  cold  wind  blew  from  the  north,  and  drifted  it 
as  it  fell  in  heaps  against  the  northern  sides  of  the 
houses,  the  trees,  the  hedges,  and  the  banks.  The 
snow  continued  to  fall  for  several  days  ;  when  it 
ceased,  a  sharp  frost  ensued,  which  lasted  for  many 
weeks.  In  the  mean  time,  heavy  clouds  and  mists 
darkened  the  air,  and  the  sun  did  not  appear.  At 
this  time  those  poor  persons,  who  were  not  provided 
with  a  comfortable  house  and  warm  clothing,  suffer- 
ed severely  ;  but  through  the  goodness  of  God,  Wil- 
helm  was  supplied  with  thrashing  and  other  work, 
which  need  not  be  interrupted  by  the  frost ;  and 
Anna  and  her  children  were  well  provided  with  spin- 
ning and  other  employment  which  could  be  pursued 
under  cover.  They  had  also  abundance  of  pota- 
toes, of  peas,  and  carrots,  to  make  soup,  and  salt 
pork  to  relish  their  vegetables,  with  many  other 
comforts  not  needful  to  enumerate,  but  for  which 


23 

they  were  filled  with  thankfulness  to  the  mighty 
Giver  of  all  good  things. 

"  I  wish  poor  little*  Margot  had  some  of  these," 
said  little  George,  one  day  whilst  his  brother  was 
taking  the  husks  off  some  chesnuts,  which  he  had 
roasted  for  him  in  the  ashes  ;  "  and  Stephen  too," 
said  Albert ;  "  poor  Stephen,"  said  Emma,  "  I  often 
think  of  them,  and  wish  that  I  had  little  Margot  in 
my  bed  at  night,  when  I  hear  the  wind  whistle  and 
howl  down  the  valley." 

"  I  wish  Ursula  would  die,  or  take  herself  off  with 
her  old  husband,  and  that  Stephen  and  Margot 
would  come  to  live  with  us,"  added  Albert.  "Would 
it  not  be  better,"  said  his  mother,  "  if,  whilst  you 
are  wishing,  Albert,  you  were  to  wish,  or  rather 
pray,  that  it  would  please  God  to  change  the  heart 
of  Ursula,  and  that  she  might  be  brought  back  tc 
her  house,  and  become  an  honest  woman  and  a  good 
mother?" 

Albert  made  no  reply,  but  little  George  said,  "  1 
should  like  Margot  to  live  here,  if  Emma  woula 
comb  her  hair." 

"But  then,  George,"  said  the  mother,  "you  must 
give  her  some  of  your  clothes,  and  divide  your 
soup  with  her,  and  have  less  for  yourself ;  and  yo 
must  give  her  half  of  your  chesnuts,  and  have 
fewer  yourself :  poor  people  like  us  can  only  do 
good  by  denying  ourselves." 

"  I  think,"  said  Albert,  "  that  if  God  would  help 
me,  I  could  do  a  great  deal  for  poor  Stephen."  Em- 
ma did  not  speak,  but  she  had  tears  in  her  eyes. 
This  night  the  wind  blew  bitter  cold,  and  the  snow 
fell  in  large  flakes  ;  nevertheless,  towards  morning 
the  wind  ceased,  and  the  frost  continued  :  the  skv 


was  clear  from  clouds,  and  the  sun  arose  above  the 
hills,  and  showed  all  the  glories  of  creation.     Now, 


24 

clothed  in  a  mantle  of  snow,  white,  and  pure,  and 
sparkling,  the  trees,  even  to  their  smallest  branches, 
were  covered  with  small  drops  of  frozen  water, 
which  resembled  diamonds ;  and  where  the  brook 
fell  over  the  rocks  close  to  Wilhelm's  door,  were 
long  icicles  hanging  from  the  little  projecting  points 
of  the  stone.  Wilhelm's  children  were  delighted  to 
see  the  sun  again,  and  to  be  able  to  open  the  door 
of  the  cottage,  without  being  exposed  to  the  sharp 
wind,  sweeping  round  from  the  north. 

After  they  had  breakfasted,  it  being  still  very  early 
in  the  morning,  their  mother  bade  her  two  elder  chil- 
dren to  take  a  bag  and  go  to  a  mill,  which  was 
about  a  mile  distant  in  the  interior  of  the  forest,  in 
order  to  get  some  meal,  of  which  they  were  in  need. 
"  You  will  find  the  path  beat,"  said  she,  "  for  this  is 
the  high  way  to  the  mill  from  the  village." 

Albert  and  Emma,  who  had  long  been  confined 
to  the  cottage,  were  delighted  at  this  proposal,  and 
set  off  with  no  small  joy  to  obey  their  mother's  com- 
mand. They  passed  by  the  solitary  cottage  of  Hu- 
go, against  the  door  of  which  the  snow  was  drifted 
so  high,  that  the  door- way  was  almost  choaked  with 
it ;  hence  they  passed  into  the  more  open  part  of 
the  wood,  where  they  had  last  met  Stephen  and 
Margot,  and  then  entered  under  the  arched  walk 
whence  Ursula  had  issued  when  last  they  saw  her. 

They  had  passed  a  little  way  down  this  path,  when 
Albert  stopped  to  fasten  his  shoe,  the  string  of  which 
was  broken  :  this  must  needs  cause  a  little  delay, 
and  whilst  he  was  thus  employed,  Emma  stood 
by  him,  and  they  were  both  silent :  at  length  Em- 
ma spoke;  "how  lovely,"  said  she,  "do  these 
woods  look  to  day,  brother,  all  covered  with  wa- 
tery diamonds,  and  glittering  in  the  sun  with  blue, 
and  purple,  and  gold.     They  remind  me  of  what 


25 

they  say  of  the  sparkling  gardens  of  the  fairy  Mor 
gana  ;  but  one  need  not  go  to  fairy  land  to  see  won- 
ders ; — and  hush  !  do  you  not  hear  the  distant  sound 
of  the  eattle  and  sheep  lowing  and  bleating  down 
in  the  village  ?  and  the  cocks  answering  each  other 
from  the  farm  yards  ;  one — two — three  ; — and  the 
last  is  so  far  off  that  he  can  scarcely  be  heard  !"By 
this  time  Albert  had  put  his  shoe  in  order,  and 
jumping  up  from  the  ground  on  which  he  had  been 
kneeling,  he  prepared  to  pursue  his  walk,  at  the 
same  time  pointing  out  to  his  sister  other  wonders 
of  the  wood  which  we  will  not  stop  to  enumerate. 
Thus  hand  in  hand  they  walked  on  till  they  came  to 
a  part  of  the  wood  where  four  ways  met,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  which,  on  the  top  of  a  small  mound,  was  a 
wooden  cross,  and  behind  it  a  place  where  a  little 
rock,  covered  with  creepers,  hanging  over  the  road, 
was  calculated  to  afford  some  small  shelter  from  the 
wind  and  snow.  The  path  which  the  children  had 
passed  had  hitherto  been  tolerably  easy,  being  shel- 
tered by  the  tre^s  to  the  north  ;  but  in  this  place 
the  snow  had  drifted  high  against  the  mound,  and 
the  road  was  so  much  obstructed,  that  Emma  and 
Albert  were  brought  to  a  stand. 

"  Our  mother  told  us  not  to  go  on  if  we  found 
any  difficulty,"  said  Emma. 

"  True,"  replied  Albert,  "  but  what  will  she  do 
without  the  meal  1  At  any  rate,  let  us  try  to  get 
round  the  mound,  and  if  we  find  the  road  deep  be- 
yond it  we  will  return  ;"  so  saying,  he  gave  his 
hand  to  Emma,  and  tried  to  get  her  round  the  mound 
towards  the  east,  in  which  direction  their  road  lay  ; 
and  having  first  tried  the  north  side,  which  was  im- 
passable, he  attempted  the  south  side,  but  found 
nearly  the  same  difficulty.  However,  not  liking  to 
give  up  the  adventure,  he  directed  Emma  to  stand 
3 


26 

still  where  she  was,  whilst  he  climbed  to  the  top  e*' 
the  little  hillock,  which  he  did  not  effect  without 
falling  back  several  times.  At  length,  however, 
taking  a  violent  spring,  he  obtained  hold  of  the 
cross,  and  there  held  himself  on  the  summit  of  the 
little  ascent,  whilst  he  looked  forward  towards  the 
road  which  he  desired  to  travel :  suddenly,  how- 
ever, as  he  stood,  he  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and  the  next 
moment  he  sprung  down  from  the  cross,  and  was  hid 
from  his  sister  by  the  mound  ;  and  though  she  called 
to  him,  and  she  still  heard  his  voice,  she  could  not 
distinguish  a  word  he  said. 

Emma  now,  in  the  greatest  terror,  attempted  to 
climb  the  mound,  but  although  she  was  scarcely 
less  active  than  Albert,  she  could  not  succeed ;  still, 
however,  she  heard  the  voice  of  Albert,  and  waiting 
another  minute  she  saw  him  coming  towards  her, 
not  over  the  mound,  but  round  the  southern  side  of 
it,  using  efforts  which  might  have  been  thought  be- 
yond the  power  of  a  boy  of  his  age.  In  his  arms 
he  carried  some  heavy  weight ;  bnt  what  with  the 
difficulty  of  stepping  through  the  snow,  and  the 
weight  he  carried,  he  seemed  unable  to  speak,  and 
his  face,  even  to  his  very  forehead,  was  flushed  with 
heat.  He  came  near  to  Emma,  who  advanced  to 
meet  him  as  far  as  she  could,  but  he  called  to  her  to 
keep  back,  directing  her  to  sit  down  on  the  stump 
of  a  tree  which  was  near  at  hand,  and  before  she 
had  time  to  ascertain  what  he  carried  in  his  arms,  he 
had  laid  little  Margot  on  her  lap,  wrapped  in  the 
well  known  ragged  coat  which  belonged  to  poor 
Stephen,  but  so  cold,  so  pale,  so  still,  that  Emma, 
screaming  with  horror,  cried  out,  "  she  is  dead, 
quite  dead.  Oh,  poor  little  Margot !"  "  No,  no," 
said  Albert,  "  not  dead,  not  dead,  I  hope.  Run, 
run,  Emma  ;  take  her  home,  lay  her  in  my  mother's 


27 

arms,  and  come  back  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  bring 
a  blanket  for  Stephen.  No,  no,  (he  added,)  don't 
do  so,  stay  with  Margot,  and  send  my  mother  to 
help  me  with  Stephen  ;  don't  stay  to  kiss  her,  but 
wrap  her  in  your  petticoat,  and  run  with  her  home." 
"  But  oh,  Albert,"  said  the  weeping  Emma,  "  she 
is  dead ;  her  lips  are  cold,  cold  as  snow ;  she  does  not 
breathe."  "  No,  no,"  said  Albert,  "  she  is  not 
dead  ;"  then,  raising  her  from  her  seat,  she  ran  back 
to  the  cottage,  whilst  he  with  one  violent  spring 
reached  the  summit  of  the  mound,  and  the  next  mo 
ment  had  descended  to  the  other  side. 

Emma  could  never  recollect  how  she  got  back 
to  the  cottage  ;  one  thing  only  she  remembered, 
that  about  half  way  between  that  and  the  mound 
she  met  a  labouring  man,  and  that  she  had  presence 
of  mind  to  tell  him  where  Albert  was,  and  to  beg 
him  to  hasten  to  his  assistance.  Anna  was  sitting 
at  her  spinning  wheel  when  Emma  burst  into  the 
cottage,  and,  almost  fainting  from  her  violent  efforts, 
ran  up  to  her  mother,  and  placed  the  cold,  pale  child 
in  her  arms.  "  Oh,  mother,  mother,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  she  is  dead,  she  does  not  breathe.  Oh  what  shall 
we  do  ?  and  Stephen  too  is  dead  ;  Albert  cannot 
bring  him  here  without  help  ;  you  must  go  imme- 
diately." 

Wilhelm's  wife,  though  dreadfully  shocked,  did 
not  wait  to  ask  any  questions,  but  directing  Emma 
to  warm  a  blanket,  she  stripped  the  cold  and  wet 
clothes  from  the  child,  and  had  the  pleasure  to  find 
that  there  was  some  little  warmth  about  her  heart. 

"  She  is  not  quite  dead,  Emma,"  said  she,  "  but 
you  must  not  bring  her  to  the  fire  ;"  so  saying,  she 
laid  her  on  a  bed  in  Albert's  little  room,  and,  having 
directed  Emma  to  rub  her  with  all  her  strength, 
whilst  little  George  was  to  warm  his  flannel  petti- 


23 

coat  and  woollen  coat,  and  place  it  on  her  stomach, 
she  ran  out  to  help  Albert. 

And  now  we  may  imagine  we  see  poor  little  Mar- 
got  stretched  on  a  bed,  and  the  trembling  Emma  rub- 
bing her  cold  limbs,  whilst  little  George  busied  him- 
self in  warming  the  clothes  which  they  laid  over 
her  stomach.  For  some  moments,  however,  the 
child  gave  no  signs  of  life  ;  but  at  length  she  heaved 
a  kind  of  faint  sigh,  and  opened  her  mouth  with  a 
sort  of  gasping  motion  ;  on  which  Emma  burst  into 
a  violent  fit  of  sobbing,  but  continued  her  endea- 
vours, till  something  like  the  warmth  of  life  was 
restored  to  her  limbs.  Her  eyes  still,  however,  re- 
mained closed,  and  her  breathing  was  hardly  per- 
ceived, when  she  heard  her  mother's  voice,  with 
that  of  Albert  and  the  labouring  man,  who  assisted 
to  bring  in  poor  Stephen. 

The  poor  boy  was  laid  on  the  bed,  having  been 
stripped  of  the  few  wet  rags  with  which  he  was 
hardly  covered,  and  the  same  means  used  with  him 
as  with  his  sister,  whom  Anna  had  now  taken  into 
her  bosom.  It  was  soon  to  be  perceived  that  Mar- 
got  was  likely  to  recover,  for  after  a  while  a  fine 
glow  spread  itself  over  her  body,  and  after  many 
gaspings  and  deep  sighs  she  began  to  breathe  freely  ; 
and  after  a  while  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  was  able 
to  swallow  a  little  warm  milk,  though  she  seemed  to 
know  no  one  about  her. 

But  poor  Stephen  remained  long  insensible,  cold, 
and  still,  though  it  was  found,  when  a  feather  wa3 
held  to  his  nostrils,  that  he  had  not  quite  ceased  to 
breathe.  The  labouring  man,  however,  who  had 
helped  to  bring  him  in,  having  rubbed  him  for  a  long 
time  with  snow,  and  a  small  quantity  of  spirits  be- 
ing put  into  his  mouth,  he  at  length  gave  some  signs 
of  returning  life  ;   but  it  was  not  till  evening  that  he 


29 

seemed  to  breathe  freely,  or  that  any  one  dared  to 
hope  that  he  would  recover  ;  still,  however,  he 
seemed  not  to  know  any  thing  that  was  passing,  and 
although  he  opened  his  eyes,  he  did  not  take  any 
notice. 

When  Wilhelm  returned  from  his  work,  and  Anna 
heard  his  step  in  the  porch,  she  ran  out  to  prepare 
him  for  what  had  happened,  to  tell  him  what  he 
must  expect  to  see. 

The  tears  started  in  the  poor  man's  eyes  as  she 
spoke.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  please  God,  these  little 
ones  may  recover,  and  that  these  lost  ones  may  be 
found  indeed  /"  (by  which  he  meant  found  of  him 
whom  they  never  sought;)  "  and  then  we  shall  have 
no  reason  to  lament  this  day's  work."  And  thus 
speaking  he  stepped  over  the  door  sill,  and  the  first 
object  he  beheld  was  Emma  sitting  in  the  chimney- 
corner  with  Margot  on  her  knee. 

"  Well,  my  little  one,"  said  the  good  man,  "  so 
you  have  found  a  home  at  last."  Margot  lifted  her 
languid  head  from  Emma's  shoulder,  and  said, 
"father,  are  you  come  back  again  ?"  "  Who  do  you 
take  me  for,  little  one  V  asked  Wilhelm.  The 
child  did  not  answer  his  question,  but  added,  "  mo- 
ther is  dead  ;  they  put  her  in  the  ground,  and  they 
have  taken  away  poor  Stephen."  "  No,"  said  Wil- 
helm, "  no,  Stephen  is  not  gone  ;"  and  taking  the 
child  in  his  arms,  wrapped  as  she  was  in  a  blanket, 
he  carried  her  into  the  little  room  where  Stephen 
lay,  and  where  Albert  and  the  poor  labourer  were 
still  watching  by  him. 

As  soon  as  Margot  saw  her  brother,  she  uttered 
such  a  cry  of  joy,  as  made  the  whole  cottage  ring, 
and  had  nearly  sprung  from  the  arms  of  Wilhelm 
on  her  brother's  bed.  At  the  sound  of  her  voice 
Stephen  opened  his  eyes,  stretched  out  his  feeble 
3* 


30 

arms,  and  burst  into  tears.  From  that  time  he 
seemed  to  feel  great  relief,  and  was  able  to  be  moved 
from  his  bed  whilst  it  was  warmed  and  dried  :  after 
which  he  was  put  into  it  again,  and  having  been  re- 
freshed with  some  warm  milk,  and  his  little  sister 
laid  by  him,  the  poor  little  beggars  soon  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep ;  whilst  Wilhelm  and  family,  who  had 
eaten  little  that  day,  sat  down  to  a  comfortable  sup- 
per, to  which  they  invited  the  kind  labourer,  who 
had  lost  a  day's  work  in  order  to  assist  the  unfor- 
tunate little  wanderers  ;  but  who,  as  he  often  was 
heard  to  say,  never  missed  that  day's  work,  but 
found  the  benefit  of  it  in  a  thousand  blessings  which 
were  afterwards  shed  upon  him  ;  for  it  was  in  Wil- 
helm's  house,  and  during  the  family  worship  which 
took  place  after  supper,  that  he  first  felt  the  power 
and  the  importance  of  true  religion,  and  was  made 
to  know  that  man  liveth  not  by  bread  alone,  but  by 
every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of 
God. 

Before  Wilhelm  and  his  wife  went  to  bed,  they 
visited  the  bed  of  the  little  wanderers,  and  found 
them  sweetly  sleeping  in  each  other's  arms,  whilst 
a  gentle  glow  had  spread  itself  over  their  whole 
bodies. 

In  the  morning  Stephen  was  able  to  give  some 
account  of  himself.  It  appears  that  his  mother  had 
pursued  her  wicked  habits  of  begging,  stealing,  and 
other  evil  practices,  till  her  character  becoming  no- 
torious in  every  place  where  she  resorted,  she  was 
actually  reduced  to  such  need  that,  having  laid  a 
long  time  in  a  lingering  state,  supported  by  what 
her  little  children  could  earn  by  begging,  she  at 
length  expired  under  a  shed  in  a  farmer's  yard,  and 
was  put  into  the  ground  with  little  ceremony  ;  the 
words  of  scripture,  which  were  spoken  of  a  wicked 


king  of  Isra< 
case  :  Jere- 


up 

bo 

En 

said 

ask 

mise 

Almu 

these 


THE    CHILD    OF    POVERTY 


Lord,  I  am  poor,  yet  hear  my  call ; 

Afford  me  daily  bread  ; 
Give  me  at  least  the  crumbs  that  fall 

From  tables  richly  spread. 

Thou  canst  for  all  my  wants  provide, 
And  bless  my  homely  crust : 

The  ravens  cry,  and  are  supply'd, 
And  ought  not  I  to  trust? 

Behold  the  lilies,  how  they  grow, 
Though  they  can  nothing  do  ; 

And  will  not  God,  who  clothes  them  so. 
Afford  me  raiment  too  ? 

But  seeing,  Lord,  thou  dost  withhold 

The  riches  some  possess, 
Grant  me  what  better  is  than  gold — 

Thy  grace  and  righteousness. 

O  may  I  heavenly  treasures  find, 
And  choose  the  better  part : 

Give  me  an  humble,  pious  mind, 
A  meek  and  lowly  heart. 

Forgive  my  sins,  my  follies  cure, 
And  grant  the  grace  I  need  ; 

And  then,  though  I  am  mean  and  pooi'j 
I  shall  be  rich  indeed. 

Page  34.       No.  2104. 


35 
LOVING  OUR  NEIGHBOURS  AS  OURSELVES. 


William  Clarke  was  the  son  of  a  poor  weaver, 
who  was  a  good  man  himself,  and  took  great  pains 
to  teach  his  children  to  be  good,  by  teaching  them 
to  read  the  Bible  and  their  catechisms  and  other 
good  books,  and  taking  them  to  church  to  worship 
God,  and  hear  his  holy  word,  and  by  sending  them 
to  the  Sunday  school,  that  they  might  learn  to  un- 
derstand what  they  read  and  what  they  heard  at 
church, 

One  day  as  William's  father  was  at  work  in  his 
loom,  his  mother  was  getting  their  dinner  ready, 
and  his  elder  sister  was  helping  her.  Mrs.  Clarke 
had  just  given  a  bowl  of  supawn  to  little  Sally,  who 
was  very  hungry,  and  began  to  eat  it  directly ;  al- 
though she  was  not  so  selfish  as  not  to  be  willing 
now  and  then  to  give  a  little  to  her  pussy. 

Little  William,  then  just  seven  years  old,  came 
running  in  quite  out  of  breath, — "  Oh,  mother," 
said  he,  "  do  come  and  see  poor  neighbour  Blake, 
she  is  very  ill,  and  they  have  nothing  to  eat.  Tom- 
my Blake  asked  me  to  let  him  play  at  ball  with  me, 
for  he  said  he  had  no  breakfast,  and  it  would  make 
him  forget  he  was  hungry.  I  thought  he  had  been 
naughty,  and  asked  him  what  he  had  been  doing ; 
but  he  said  his  mother  was  too  sick  to  be  able  to  go 
to  the  squire's  to  work  yesterday ;  so  there  was  no 
bread  left,  and  they  had  not  eaten  since  yesterday 
dinner-time.  So,  mother,  I  told  him  that  if  he 
would  come  home  with  me,  I  was  sure  you  would 
give  him  some  of  our  dinner  to  take  to  his  mother, 
for  he  loves  her  very  dearly.  But  he  said,  his  mo- 
ther told  him  this  morning  not  to  come  to  our  house, 
for  you  had  sent  them  things  several  times,  and  they 


36 

ought  not  to  trouble  you  so  often.  So  when  I  found 
he  would  not  come,  I  thought  I  would  run  directly 
and  tell  you  ;  for  I  just  peeped  in  at  the  door,  and  I 
saw  Mrs.  Blake,  and  she  looks  so  ill,  you  cannot 
think,  and  I  am  sure  they  would  help  us  :  and  my 
text  that  I  had  to  learn  in  the  gospel  for  last  Sunday 
was,  '  Love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself,'  and  I  know  I 
should  not  like  to  go  without  my  breakfast,  and 
have  no  dinner  too."  Poor  William  then  burst  into 
tears  ;  but,  recollecting  himself,  he  took  the  corner 
of  his  pinafore  and  began  to  wipe  his  eyes. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Clarke,  "don't  cry,  Witty  ;  as 
soon  as  we  have  had  our  dinners  we  will  go  and 
take  some  to  poor  widow  Blake,  and  see  what  we 
can  do  for  her."  So  saying,  she  made  haste  to  get 
all  ready  as  fast  as  she  could. 

Little  Sally  had  listened  very  attentively  ;  she 
got  up,  and  while  her  mother  was  very  busy,  she 
said,  "  Willy,  dear,  see,  here's  almost  all  my  su- 
pawn  left ;  come,  let's  go  and  take  it  to  Tommy,  for 
he  had  no  breakfast,  and  he's  too  hungry  to  wait 
till  we've  done  dinner."  The  mother,  pleased  to 
hear  this,  did  not  stop  them,  and  off  went  William 
and  Sally  with  the  supawn,  and  begged  Tommy  to 
eat  it  for  breakfast,  telling  him  mother  would  come 
by  and  by,  and  bring  them  some  dinner. 

My  dear  children,  do  you  learn  texts  from  the 
Bible,  or  the  scripture  proofs  in  your  Sunday  school 
books  ?  Remember,  it  is  written,  "  Be  ye  doers  of 
the  word,  and  not  hearers  only  ;"  and  also  remem- 
ber that  text  in  the  epistle,  "  As  we  have  opportu- 
nity, let  us  do  good  unto  all  men."  (Gal.  vi.  10.) 
And  we  are  to  do  this  to  show  our  love  to  Christ, 
remembering  his  love  in  all  that  he  has  done  and 
suffered  for  poor  sinners,  that  they  might  be  brought 
near  to  God. 


f^t^f-.,     1 


wsv 


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